


An Expensive Luxury

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Accidents, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Arguing, Blood Loss, Caretaking, Caring, Concussions, Explanations, Head Injury, Hemophilia, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, Major Character Injury, Medical Trauma, Mid-Canon, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Selves, Protectiveness, Queerplatonic Dark/Host - Freeform, Queerplatonic Relationships, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Dark is forced to cross uncomfortable boundaries on behalf of an injured friend. Doing so makes it all too easy for him to be compromised.





	An Expensive Luxury

_Anger is an expensive luxury in which only men of a certain income can indulge_.

* * *

 “What in the name of sanity were you _doing?!_ ”

Sputtering and coughing desperately to refill his burning lungs, the Host thrashed like a dying fish to turn onto his side. Dark’s furious demand could barely be heard behind the intense ringing in his ears and the brutal throbbing in his head and even if he had heard it clearly, he couldn’t find the strength to answer. His teeth chattered fiercely, catching on his quivering lower lip and leaving behind the taste of iron and sea salt.

“You should never have ventured out there,” Dark continued to rebuke him as he gripped his friend’s shoulder and returned him to his back, fumbling with his sodden clothing. The buttons of his coat were slippery, refusing to cooperate with his shaking fingers. Despite himself, he had a persistent twinge of worry thumping in the back of his chest. He had only dunked his arms in the water long enough to keep the Host from drowning, and he was losing feeling in his fingertips. How long had the Host been submerged?

Finally he managed to wrangle the Host’s coat open, peeling the heavy fabric away from his heaving chest. The Host had gone limp by now, letting him work as he pleased, but that wasn’t what Dark needed.

“Take your arms out of these sleeves, Host. Do you hear me? You need to keep moving; let me get this off of you.”

For a few seconds it seemed as if the Host hadn’t registered the order—until his dripping, blue-tinged fingers twitched and he bit back a groan as he started sliding his arms in toward his sides. Dark nodded curtly in encouragement, pulling the sleeves the opposite direction until the coat lay limp in its growing puddle.

“Now sit up. Sit up.” Even as he spoke, Dark slid one hand under the Host’s head and gripped his shoulder with the other, simultaneously pushing and pulling until the younger Ego was somewhat upright. Shuddering faintly, the Host slumped further forward than Dark was expecting, laying his forehead against his knees. Now that the back of his head was exposed, Dark busied himself with untangling the tails of his bandages, wringing the cold water out of them.

When he glanced at the Host’s pasty face, he noticed his lips moving, though no sound left them. Even now he was narrating, helpless to stop, and Dark pursed his own lips, tilting his head to read whatever words his friend was trying to form.

“…his hands are wet with more than just water…”

At that Dark flinched back, several alarms sounding in his mind simultaneously. “What?”  he demanded sharply, already turning his hands over for his inspection. Water trailed thinly down his fingers—as did blood. Cursing in disbelief, he leaned forward on his knees, pulling away the bandage tails and brushing his icy fingers searchingly through the Host’s hair. It was warm and sticky just behind his right ear and as soon as he parted the plastered strands of dark hair to get a better look, rivulets of blood began racing freely down the curve of his neck.

“Oh, _Host_ , you fool…” he seethed, bending over to rifle through the pockets of the fallen overcoat. He withdrew the Host’s roll of emergency bandages within seconds, his heart dropping into his stomach as their sogginess made them difficult to unwind. His impatience overtook him and he tossed them aside, instead opting to press one of his hands against the wound. The Host flinched at the sudden contact, a sudden jerk much larger than his consistent shivering, and Dark found himself swallowing what could have been an _apology_ , of all things.

The Host should be grateful, he decided as he fished his free hand through his jacket for his phone. After the dip in the water, he doubted the Host’s would still be functional.

“Tell me, Host,” he began, his voice tight with accusation, “what exactly was it that you were thinking when you stepped onto that ice? Hm? Did you think that you could be trusted to hold your balance? Were you actively trying to tempt danger? Were you feeling _adventurous?_ ”

“T-The Host has been t-taking walks in this area f-for s-several days,” was the faint, stuttered response. “Googleplier h-has been encouraging him to improve his b-balance on uneven surfaces.”

The sheer, sharp red in Dark’s aura flared at that and he set aside a mental note to have a discussion with Google about what could come of making plans to improve _anything_ about the Host without his knowledge or consent. This thought was briefly interrupted as the Host stirred, lifting his heavy head from his knees with a strangled groan and listing sideways to slump against his friend. Dark drew in a startled breath, resisting the urge to recoil as fresh blood immediately formed a disconcertingly large stain in his jacket.

“What is it?” he asked instead, wary of this change in position. The Host’s response was too slurred for him to catch very much of it, but he heard something about his aura being in flux. That didn’t explain why the Host would want to draw closer to him; his aura was naturally cool and the Host was already chilled to the bone—

Oh.

Celine’s influence…His anger. It created temperature changes, flushed him with excess heat. Though his jaw was working as he chastised himself for his lack of control, he could at least excuse it by reminding himself that it served a purpose here. It was an expensive luxury, given the circumstances; he would rather the Host have _avoided_ needing his anger for warmth altogether.

It was too late for that now. His friend was slipping in and out of consciousness, his breath too shallow, his shivering too violent. There were too many variables—cold shock, hypovolemic shock, hypothermia, hemophilia…He couldn’t afford to be conservative or selfish. Exhaling harshly through his nose, Dark lifted a hand to the Host’s head, guiding it down and back so the wound was compressed firmly against his chest. He kept his hand thoroughly tangled in his cold, dripping hair, unwilling to release any pressure. As he did, he pried open his hold on his anger, letting it ripple through him like the first churning froth of a rising wave.

Within seconds, the blue in his aura was almost completely drowned, though there was a trace of it on the very edges of the harsh, scorching red smoke surrounding them. That blue made up his grim concern, his recognition of an ally’s need, his own need for his ally…He would never be channeling his anger like this if it weren’t for that tinge of blue. As he felt the Host’s wracking chills ease little by little, the blue wisps regained some strength, entwining lightly with the red.

 _Balance_. Even now, there was something of a balance.

Dark remembered, suddenly, that he had been searching for his phone. It was buried at the bottom of his pocket, but once he found it he was able to speed-dial the doctor, tucking the device between his shoulder and his ear so he could put his hand between the Host’s shoulder blades, concentrating the heat in his aura to that point, blanketing it over him.

“You should know, Host, that I would do this for no one else,” he murmured lowly, brows furrowing as he gave it a second thought. “…Wilford, perhaps, but no one else.” The Host didn’t make any attempt to reply and Dark was forced to remind himself to keep his breathing even, closing his eyes in concentration as he waited on the dial tone.


End file.
